Politics, viral epidemics, Arkansas sports mania and a multitude of other potential catastrophes seek to occupy my attention. Not to mention trying to run a business, complete house projects and staying up to date with the newest Netflix releases.
But right now, I am hunting down a house cat with my granddaughter. My cat, Major, doesn't really enjoy being around 2-year-olds. But that doesn't stop Maggie from seeking her out.
Of course, Maggie recruits me as backup to help. "C'mon, Papa," she says as she grabs my hand. Cautiously we sneak around the house, looking under chairs and tables. When the cat suddenly jumps out, Maggie squeals excitedly and runs after her.
The run takes her by a pile of toys, and she stops to grab her ridable pink SUV. Jumping into the seat, she looks back at me and taps the back of the car. That's my signal to push the ride around the house. The faster we go, the more she laughs and screams. Papa can only go so long before backaches and fatigue set in. A quick check on my phone reveals several emails related to work activities. They can wait, because Maggie is now in the tent set up in the living room along with several of her baby dolls. Maggie summons me in so I can supervise the babies being put to bed. She puts a finger to her lips, letting me know I am to be quiet. She lays them on a pillow and covers them all with a blanket. They seem to be sleeping fine, so we exit the tent.
Maggie spies one of the dogs out on the deck. "Wally!" she exclaims. Wally wags his tail, and we go out to play with him and the other dog, Daisy. They like Maggie, mainly because she brings them dog biscuits. After she gives each a treat she firmly tells them to play nice. Daisy insists on licking Maggie's face, which elicits more squeals and laughs. The dogs begin to play fight with each other, each vying for Maggie's attention. She loudly scolds them with "No, Wally; no Daydee!" and gets between them to stop the action. They then chase her, and she chases them.
"C'mon, Papa, go," means that she wants to walk through the woods. She examines leaves, picks up sticks, and points to things for me to identify. She understands more than I realize, as she repeats the words back to me. We come across a couple of things that cause her to remark, "Eeww," usually bugs or dirt clods that look like poop. She would spend hours outside if I let her. I'm wondering if the news is on, but then decide I really don't care.
Heading back home, she spots my old Duramax truck in the yard. She indicates that she wants to get in by trying to reach the door handles. I pick her up and place her in the driver's seat. She looks at the ignition and asks me, "Keys?" I start it up for her, and she loves the rumble of the diesel engine. I tell her someday she can have the truck. Not entirely sure she got my drift, but her smile was telling.
Sometimes we get so wrapped up in ourselves, our work, and our outrage that we forget what really matters. You can take all the political garbage, the worries over social media, terrorism, and viral pandemics and do whatever you want with it. For me, right now, all I care about is making Maggie happy. 'Cause doing that makes me happy.
-- Devin Houston is the president/CEO of Houston Enzymes. Send comments or questions to [email protected]. The opinions expressed are those of the author.
Editorial on 03/04/2020